


Rêve

by MagnoliasInBloom



Category: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 07:58:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13970727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagnoliasInBloom/pseuds/MagnoliasInBloom
Summary: Severely ill, Jamie and Claire yearn for each other through the centuries.





	1. Chapter 1

Jamie turns toward the wall, the dim glow of the weak peat fire too much for his tearing eyes. The slow, hesitating turn of his body ignites pain all over it - that bone deep ache that never seems to leave him now.

He can discern the whispering of the forest at his back, coming alive with nighttime activity. The late November wind shakes the leaves and whistles through the boughs. The noise mingles with the roaring in his ears, the burn consuming his head from the inside out.

Jamie does not know what pains him more, the aching longing in his heart at the thought of the family he sent away, or the flaring pain in his chest. The hacking cough emanates from his lungs in fits and starts. The fever will not abate, the chill has settled on his skin. He knows well what it is - pleurisy.

It has been like this for days, with no respite in sight. He does not dare go to Lallybroch, having heard an English guard was nearby. His meager stores are nearly depleted. Fergus might come soon, perhaps too late. Jamie had attempted a search for wild onion root to make a poultice, but had been too weak to venture more than twenty feet from the cave.

Onions to draw out the congestion. He had learned that from Claire.

_Lord, that she might be safe. Her and the child._

The dank, dripping wall of the cave provides a blank canvas on which to imagine Claire’s face. Not as it had looked the last time he saw it - gaunt and drawn from hunger and heartbreak - but luminous ivory, healthy and happy. Those whiskey eyes…

Jamie rubs at his arms half-heartedly, trying to warm them up. The ratty blanket he keeps in the cave has long since become damp, offering no comfort. Chills rack his body and make him shiver uncontrollably. He locks his jaw to stop his teeth from chattering, to no avail.

Claire could heal him. Claire would know how.

Her gentle hands soothe fevered brows. They bring relief and peace to the ill that effect miraculous recoveries under her care. Her abilities are otherworldly, astonishing, her own.

And suddenly, there, with him.

The smell of the fire decocting herbs in the pot cannot overshadow the scent of Claire. The light flickers in her eyes as she labors over him. A cool, soft cloth trails over his skin. She presses a soft kiss to his forehead, before offering the warm shelter of her arms. He nestles into her lap facedown while her hands touch his lips, his crooked nose, and his matted hair, everywhere.

He needs to hold her too. With supreme effort, Jamie tries to bring his arms around Claire’s waist, clutching at her body. Pain flares in his lungs again, igniting the coughing spasms that choke the breath from him.

_“I need you…”_

Jamie grasps at air, jarring himself awake. For the first time in days, his head is clear. The fever seems to have broken. A thin, piercing cry reaches his ears - like that of a newborn wean. He struggles to sit up.

“Faith… Brian…” Jamie’s voice is rough and faint.

“M'lord?” Fergus peeks around the stone lip of the cave, a wrapped bundle of fresh bannocks in his hands.

The hope in Jamie’s eyes dwindles, remembering. He can still feel the pressure of Claire’s lips on his own.

“Fergus, lad.” Jamie lays down fully, exhausted, extending a hand to his adoptive son.

“Are ye alright, sir?” Fergus kneels next to him, worry on his young face. Setting the parcel on the cave floor, he tries to pull Jamie’s head onto his lap, but the latter recoils.

“I dinna ken, boy.” A helpless tear streams down Jamie’s face, that Claire had touched only moments ago.  _Oh, Sassenach_. He wipes his hand over his eyes, attempting a smile for Fergus’ sake. “But we shall see.”

The memory of the crying babe lingers, seared into his heart.

_Lord, that she might be safe. Her and the child._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severely ill, Jamie and Claire yearn for each other through the centuries.

“Brianna.”

Claire’s breath stutters shortly, with effort and distress. She waves her arms about, searching for her daughter. The pull of an IV on her hand tugs the skin and stings. She raises herself feebly onto her elbows, but collapses almost immediately.

Strong hands push her shoulders down, sweeping the hair from her face.

“Claire, calm down. You must rest.” Frank’s face comes into sharp focus.

_Where is Jamie?_

She must get to him, he is ill and needs her. She will take their daughter to him, to meet her father, and he will get well. They will be together.

“Claire, stop it! Nurse!” Frank lets go of her and hurries angrily towards the door, calling for help.

She spoke aloud again of her desires. She cannot help it, her mind is fractured. The fever rages through her body. She can feel it burning its way through her brain. She hopes it will consume it and carry away the pain of remembering.

The tender flesh between her legs is sore with stitches. They tweak every time she moves. Her breasts feel engorged, hard with milk that has yet to nourish her daughter. They have wrapped them in bandages to cut the flow. To move at all is throbbing pain, anywhere she turns.

 _“I can bear pain myself,“_  he had said,  _"but I couldna bear yours. That would take more strength than I have.”_

Claire brushes her face with the bed sheet, the faint tinge of antiseptic wafting from the fabric. She is sweating profusely, and realizes infection has set in. Her skin is swollen and rubbery. She digs a finger into her forearm and watches in dismay as it returns slowly, a white fingerprint embedded in a watery balloon. Pulmonary edema.

After the first heavenly minutes when Brianna was laid in her arms, crying in a piercing wail, Claire vaguely recalls doctors working over her in the delivery room. They toss about terms like "eclampsia” and “hemorrhage”.  A sudden convulsion came over her body, and she knew no more. Until she woke up in her hospital room, coughing her lungs out.

Heavily sedated, she had no notion of how much time had passed. Frank had returned briefly to see her, to tell her she had given birth to a daughter. A beautiful child, with fuzzy red-gold hair. In and out of sleep, she had smiled and called out to Jamie, “A lass. A wee lassie, my love.” Frank had slipped out of her vision, but not before she had glimpsed his disappointed and hurt expression.

Now, after being connected to IV fluids for three days, pulmonary edema had set in, causing her to bloat and the liquid to settle in her chest. The child could not be brought to her until the infection had gone.

Frank returns with a doctor - his nametag reads Bennett. He assesses her vitals quickly and determines what Claire already knew - antibiotics to treat the infection are necessary. Dr. Bennett administers a dose of morphine to relieve her shortness of breath. He removes the IV to stop the swelling.

A nurse who introduces herself as Carolyn prepares an ampoule and syringe of penicillin, apologizing as she sticks the needle into Claire’s clammy skin. She barely feels the pinch, as the morphine begins to take effect. Frank tries to grip her hand but it slips from his grasp.

Soft darkness blurs the edges of her sight. Her body relaxes into the hard hospital bed. If she closes her eyes, she sees a gentle light flickering. Like the flame of a peat fire. She recalls those burning in the hearths of Scottish homes, where she tended the tenants of Lallybroch for a brief time. The candlelight keeping vigil over her work at the Hôpital des Anges, her hands constantly busy preparing infusions and dressing simple wounds.

Jamie’s blue eyes watching her undress at day’s end, tired but satisfied with a job well done. Claire feels his hands take over the unlacing of her stays, brushing over her back in a caress more tender than helpful. His fingers trace her lower back, her petticoats billowing to the floor. He pulls her chemise over her head, trapped in a filmy cloud until she stands, flushed with desire.

She reciprocates and takes him to bed, gently placing his head in her lap. She would trail her fingers through his coppery hair, bestowing feather-light kisses on his eyelids and lips. Her hands slide down over his chest, eliciting soft groans from Jamie until he wraps his arms around her waist, drawing her closer in a heated embrace.

_“I need ye…”_

Claire lurches in bed, the dark predawn enveloping her. She hears the rumbling of delivery trucks outside her window, the glow of electric light filtering through the panes. The late November chill has settled in the room. Slowly she comes to waking realization.

First, in sorrow - Jamie is not in her arms. But the feel of him so real, his presence lingers at her side. A faithful ghost.

Then, in joy - she feels mildly stronger, the fever subsiding. She will hold Brianna soon, worshiping every inch of Jamie’s child. Their own  _ruaidh_  lass.

At the last, in solitude - as it must be, to honor the promise made to a man long since gone. A wrenching sob tears from her throat as she grips the sheets.

_God, give me peace._

_God, that he rests in peace._


End file.
